


Turncoat

by mysterycyclone



Category: Zombies Run!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Season/Series 02 Spoilers, Season/Series 04 Spoilers, Treason
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2020-05-12 05:19:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19222399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysterycyclone/pseuds/mysterycyclone
Summary: Season 2 spoilers!A purring cat, a glass of whisky, a good friend. Everything you need to plot the murder of your closest friend. Sara regrets that Major De Santa's sacrifice won't quite go to plan the way she hopes.





	1. Chapter One

Five lands hard on her back, the wind knocked out of her lungs. She scrambles to stand, gasping for breath and flailing in the dirt. A heavy foot aimed for the center of her chest pushes her back down and pins her to the floor. Five grapples with it weakly, still trying to catch her breath. It doesn't move and she’s too exhausted to fight it further. She sighs and flops down onto her back, giving up to stare up at the late spring evening sky above.  
  
Sara leans down, her foot pressing into Five’s chest, watching Five with a mix of annoyance and amusement. “If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times: watch your right side, Five. It’s almost as if you’ve slacked off since I disappeared."  
  
Five huffs, letting her head thump down on to the dirt. She catches her breath, letting go of Sara’s shoe to sign. “My left is stronger.”  
  
“But your right side isn’t. You can’t always win by surprise, Five, even if left-handers are a bit of a rarity these days.” Sara pulls her foot back and leans down to offer Five her hand. “C’mon. Up. We’ve still got the practice ring for another ten minutes. That’s plenty of time to knock some fighting sense into you before Janine comes out for her turn in the ring.”  
  
Five takes her hand with a careless grin, pulling herself up and hopping back into a fighting stance. Five is quick, both physically and mentally, but she hasn’t yet got her fighting technique down, and she tends to compensate for her lack of experience with sheer disregard for her own safety. There’s promise, though. Sara’s certainly seen less talented fighters become formidable opponents after enough training.  
  
“Right! From the top, then.” Sara rolls her shoulders, falling into a stance opposite of Five.  
  
"Another time, Runner Five." The Major's unmistakable voice cuts through the air. Several of the nearby runners subconsciously straighten their backs at the sound of it. "Runner Eight? Clean up and come by my office. I want to go over that last report you turned in.”  
  
Five drops her fighting stance, letting out a disappointed sigh. Sara nudges her with an elbow. “Cheer up, Five. Simon’s next in line. I’m sure he won’t mind being thrown around the ring a bit with you.”  
  
Simon is off to the side, doing stretches with Jody and Evan. He turns towards them at the sound of his name and perks up when Five waves him into the ring. He jogs over and grins at Five, shooting her a brief wink. “Remember, my safe word is teacup.”  
  
Jody groans and Evan snorts. Five rolls her eyes before shifting into a fighting stance, eager to throw Simon around by his ears. Simon gives her a mock salute and bow. Five takes advantage of his distraction to climb him like a spider and wrestle him to the ground. Simon lets out a startled yelp before moving to defend himself. From there, the fight becomes less of a friendly spar and more borderline sibling slap fight. It reminds her of her boys, in a way. Sara shakes her head, chuckling quietly as she turns to follow the Major off of the track.  
  
She jogs for the showers, cleaning up quickly and changing into clean clothes before heading over to Janine’s farmhouse. It’s nearing dusk when she steps inside Janine’s home and makes her way towards the Major’s room on the second floor. The Major has a guest room that Janine has worked to fit to her friend’s tastes, an unspoken showing of care and friendship typical of the normally stoic woman. Sara takes the steps at a trot, walking down the hall and giving the Major’s bedroom door a brisk knock before pushing the door open and stepping inside.  
  
The Major’s room is clean and spartan, save for the desk near the window. Clothes are kept folded and neat, boots are tucked beneath the bed, and the only thing out of place is the floral print of the blankets on the Major’s bed. The Major herself is seated at the desk, a simple thing covered in papers with a bottle of whisky and two glasses seated at the edge of it, sorting through reports and inventory lists, though the expression on her face tells Sara she’s only half paying attention to the words on the page in front of her.  
  
Simon’s cat, Furball, is curled up at the Major’s elbow. His tail flicks back and forth slowly as he watches her, purring with abandon when the Major pauses her work to pet him. The cat has made himself at home in Janine’s house, coming and going at his leisure, and has formed a special attachment to Major De Santa, who had taken to the cat when he was a kitten, gently spoiling him when not in view of the runners.  
  
“You know, Janine still hasn’t quite figured out how he’s sneaking in,” Sara says, leaning against the door frame. “She thinks Sam’s been letting him in when she sneaks inside to rummage through her cupboards at night.”  
  
Major De Santa chuckles. “That could be. But I’ve also discovered our friend here is a bit of a sneak himself. He’s learned how to open some of Janine’s older windows and sneak inside.” She takes a moment to gently scratch beneath Furball’s chin. The cat purrs, slowly closing his eyes as he leans into her hand. De Santa smiles, then turns to Sara. “Come in. We’ve got a lot to discuss.”  
  
Sara slips inside, shutting the door behind herself. She drops into the chair opposite of the Major’s desk. “That eager to discuss my report, are you?”  
  
“I’ve gone over it, and while you’re making progress, the situation is starting to unravel. I thought it best to touch base with you as soon as possible.” The Major reaches for the whisky and glasses. She pours herself a generous drink and does the same for Sara before pushing the amber filled glass across the desk. Sara quirks a brow, reaching out to take the offered glass at the Major’s nod.  
  
“This must be serious. I can’t remember the last time you parted ways with your favorite whisky so easily.” In fact, this is unusual. Sara starts to tense in her chair.  
  
“It is. Deadly serious, in fact.” The Major sighs, taking a drink. “It seems Van Ark isn’t taking the bait like we’d hoped. That presents a problem for us, if things carry on as they have. We're going to start losing people. Good people. Morale is razor thin as it is, after the last few attacks. And that doesn't include the zombies breaching our walls two weeks ago. I've got a plan, but you might not like it.”  
  
Sara tilts her head, watching the Major. Major De Santa isn’t one for rushing into things, in her experience. She’s like Janine that way; methodical, thorough. Sara’s all for a good plan, but she works best thinking on her feet, making impulsive decisions. Five is the same way; one of the reasons they work so well together.  
  
The Major takes another drink before setting the glass down firmly on her desk. “It’s become clear that Van Ark won’t fully trust you until you’ve proven yourself, and that he has both the resources and the support from outside sources that we cannot begin to trace in our current state. This is a battle of attrition, and we are coming out the losers unless we do something drastic.” She purses her lips, watching Sara closely. “To cut a long story short: I want you to kill me.”  
  
Silence fills the room after that. Sara can feel herself go very still, her mind a whirlwind. She stares at the glass in her hand, then takes a deep drink. “Well. You always did have odd requests, De Santa.”  
  
The Major chuckles, and there’s a weariness to it that’s never been there before. Sara takes another drink, disturbed to her core. “I never promised you an easy career, Smith. Nothing so trifling as the apocalypse will change that.” She takes a drink, savoring the taste of the whisky before locking eyes with Sara. Her gaze is sharp and clear, just as its always been; this isn’t a woman broken by the apocalypse seeking a way out of her suffering. The Major is still the Major. “This must be done. I trust you to do it. Will you help me?”  
  
Sara meets her eyes for a long moment, and then gives one short, sharp nod.  
  
“Good. Let’s get to work, then.”  
  
They spend the rest of the night detailing the plan that will ultimately lead to the Major’s murder and Sara’s treason. Sara knows it’ll work. Van Ark is convinced Abel’s strength comes from Major De Santa’s leadership alone; he’s underestimated the runners and Janine, though she’s not eager to enlighten him if she can help it. Not yet, anyway.  
  
Throughout it all, she thinks of the list of names in Van Ark’s lab. The list she wasn’t meant to see. The one that’s shaken her conviction.  
  
At the end of the night, Sara is somewhere close to drunk. She turns to De Santa. “I won’t do it unless I absolutely have to. He might trust me without any drastic measures, I just need more time.” To her own surprise, she means it.  
  
“I doubt it. He’s a man that deals in absolutes, Smith. We had best prepare for the worst.” She pauses for a moment, looking oddly relaxed for someone who just plotted out their own murder at the hands of one of their closest friends. “You know, I’ve been thinking about this for awhile. How I would eventually end up going. It’s almost comforting, knowing it's coming from a friend. That it will serve a purpose.”  
  
Sara has nothing to say to that. She takes a drink instead, a part of her mourning the loss of a friend not yet dead. The Major polishes off her own drink and sets aside the glass to clean later. She stands up from the desk and Sara isn’t far behind, heading for the door. They both pause in front of it.  
  
Sara frowns, letting her hand rest on the doorknob. “Shouldn’t we get Janine involved in this? She might see something we don’t.”  
  
“Janine...” The Major sighs. “Janine is an excellent agent. Was an excellent agent, before her retirement from field duty. She was retired for a reason, and her hands are full turning a bunch of empty farmland into a thriving community. And there are other duties, as well, relating to Greenshoot. She has enough on her plate. For now, we keep her out of it. We’ll need her to look sincere when it’s all said and done. You and I both know subterfuge isn’t her forte.”  
  
That doesn’t sit right with Sara; Janine is one of the few she can call a true friend. Having her input on their insane little plot might save the Major’s life. But she nods. “I’ll see Van Ark as soon as possible and give him the runner’s schedule. That might get him to trust me.”  
  
“Perhaps.” The Major doesn’t sound convinced. Truth be told, Sara doesn’t have much hope for the plan herself. More and more, it seems like the Major's idea will the best course of action. Either she kills the Major to convince Van Ark of her loyalties or she gives up information that will cause more senseless deaths and leave them weaker than they were before. “Get some rest, Smith.”  
  
Sara hesitates, oddly torn. She knows, somehow, that this will be the last time they speak face to face before it’s all said and done. Sara isn’t quite prepared for it. This is another loss, and this one is deeper than others. Oh, she’s suffered it before; anyone who’s made it to her age has lost at least one person, and that goes double for the apocalypse. That Major matches her gaze steadily, finally reaching out to take her hand and squeeze it.  
  
“Abel will survive without me,” Major De Santa says, “They’ve managed just fine without me so far, and I’m barely needed for the day to day running. Janine’s filled that niche nicely, even if she’s not totally comfortable with it. She’ll learn.”  
  
Sara squeezes her hand back, sighing. “Abel will survive. You’re right about that, at least.” _They just might be doing it without either of us around to help._  
  
The Major pulls her hand back, standing up straight and regarding her friend closely. Sara hesitates for a moment longer before pulling open the door and stepping into the hall. She closes the door behind her and leaves Janine’s home, heading for the empty fields that haven’t yet been devoted to any particular purpose within the walls. She needs the time to think tonight.  
  
The Major has really given her quite the bargaining chip with Van Ark. It’s more than she’d hoped for, and it’s exactly what she needs to get into his good graces. It’s also put her in a poor spot. What previously seemed to be a distant thought is now a strong possibility. The only thing that’s stopping her is a question of loyalty. The Major’s death is all but guaranteed at this point, Sara knows that. A noble sacrifice made by an honored friend meant to gain the trust of a dangerous man and kill him when he least suspects it.  
  
Except Sara isn’t interested in killing Van Ark. He undoubtedly deserves it, but he’s also useful to her. For the moment, at least. Specifically, she needs to know who’s running the show behind him. He’s too big of a target, too convenient, too shortsighted to have orchestrated all of this by himself. She’s been sneaking around his hideouts long enough to see the hand silently guiding him along his path. He’s a tool for a greater scheme. She intends to use him herself before it’s all said and done. Which means she’ll need to delay De Santa’s plan. She should be able to pull that off easily; the Major is slow to trust, but once she places her trust in someone, it’s rare for her to withdraw it. A bit like Sam, in some ways. She’ll accept Sara’s excuses readily enough, up to a point. The thought of it makes her sick, but she’s made up her mind. She can delay the inevitable for the moment. Abel will suffer in the meantime, but it will endure. At least until she’s sure of her decision. She just can’t quite justify using the Major’s death for her own purposes yet. Not when the image of De Santa gently petting a cat while drinking her favorite whisky is so fresh in her mind. Not when her own mind is so cloudy for that same reason.  
  
Sara scowls as she broods, pacing back and forth for nearly two hours before heading towards the runners’ bunkhouses. She stops near Janine’s farmhouse, tempted to go see the Major and explain why she needs to be removed from the mission, that she’s been compromised, and the Major should find another way to end Van Ark’s threat. She should tell her that she’s been infected, at the very least. Come clean to one of the few people she considers a true friend.  
  
Sara walks towards the door, almost without realizing it. She stops short, torn, then turns and heads for the far wall of the township. She won’t be missed until her watch comes up for the wall. That gives her enough time to make the run to Van Ark’s lab.

 

* * *

 

  
  
As expected, Van Ark is less than impressed with the information Sara’s brought her. He sneers at her, balling up the runner’s schedule she brought and tossing it at her feet with a contemptuous snort. “I could have figured this out on my own. But it does confirm the copy I already have is true. That’s useful enough, I suppose.” He purses his lips, regarding her coolly, and then sighs. “And you’re overdue for your treatment. Go see Paula down the hall. The next time you set foot in here, you had better bring me something more than this. Understood?”  
  
“Of course, professor.” She manages to keep the venom out of her tone, but just barely. Van Ark has other spies, of course. Probably one of the New Canton runners that pass through Abel. Sara still gives New Canton a wide berth; she’s missed out on whatever prompted their alliance with Abel, and she trusts their ‘greater good’ cooperation nonsense with extreme doubt at the best of times. She remembers all too well how New Canton abandoned the settlements they took over during Van Ark’s attack on Abel. They can preach cooperation and alliance as much as they want, but the PAC that brokers deals with the Major is the same one that planned on taking the township by force. And then there’s the matter of what Nadia did to Five...Well. Her thoughts towards New Canton could best be described as ‘lukewarm’.  
  
Van Ark turns away from her, heading for one of his labs. He doesn’t spare her a second glance, and she idly toys with the thought of killing him until he disappears into a room and firmly shuts the door behind him.  
  
Sara waits for a moment before stalking down the hall towards Van Ark’s personal office. She needs to be sure of what she’s seen before she makes her next move, and Paula won't be on the look out for her. It doesn’t take her long to wind her way through Van Ark’s labs to his personal quarters. It takes even less time to get inside.  
  
This part of the lab is forbidden even for Van Ark’s closest and most loyal underlings. If he ever finds Sara in here, or even suspects she knows where it is, he would have her vivisected within the hour (really, what is the man’s obsession with that?).  
  
Fortunately, his security is about as effective as his moral compass; Van Ark is an impatient man, and doesn’t tolerate ‘unnecessary’ security measures within his own sanctum. He has a few guards at the very edge of the perimeter (all of them bored and distracted), a few cameras (disabled so he can freely enjoy the company of his friend Matilda), and only three heavy locks on the door leading to his personal office (utterly pathetic). She can break into his office with one hand tied behind her back if necessary.  
  
All that lackluster security just for a simple office with a utilitarian desk, black filing cabinets, and full sized bed tucked into the corner beneath fluorescent  lights. She slips in unseen, taking care to check for any new security measures. Not finding any, she heads straight for the locked filing cabinet in the corner.  
  
She pulls out the file labeled ‘S’, flipping towards the middle of the stack of papers.  
  
There, in the middle of the page, is a name. _Matthew Smith, age 8. Status: Stored in Cryotube #S52910, London Group._  
  
That tube isn’t in Van Ark’s complex. She’s scoured every inch of the place. The tubes only go to C, and most of those are empty. Her son isn’t here. But Van Ark knows where he is, or at least where this tube is. He won’t tell her, of course, but Paula might. She’s the weak link in Van Ark’s organization; the rest of the researchers and scientists are more interested in the work than the fallout, secure in the knowledge that Van Ark’s security and resources will protect them from the worst of the apocalypse. She can risk tipping her hand to Paula, if it comes to it. But that isn’t what’s on her mind at the moment.  
  
She has a choice here. Family or duty, saving her son or helping stabilize and save what's left of the world. Not an unusual choice for her given her background. Duty has always come before her family; it was rarely a question, really.  
  
And look where it got her.  
  
Sara slides the list back into place and shuts drawer. She's out of Van Ark's private office within minutes and back into fading evening light not long after that. She starts the run back to Abel, keeping an eye out for any of Van Ark’s pet assassins that may follow her; he’s turned on his informants before, and she’s not eager to meet the same end some of the less wise informants from New Canton suffered. When it becomes clear that no one is following her, she turns her mind back to that choice. Will she save her family and betray those who became family after the world ended? Or will she leave her son behind, as she has before when duty calls?  
  
She comes to her decision halfway through the run. She's given the world enough. It's high time she did something for herself for once. For her family. Abel can do without her; her job now is to reach London and find her son.  
  
She regrets that Major De Santa will die in vain.


	2. Chapter Two

 

The next day, the Major’s words play over and over in Sara’s mind. _I want you to kill me._ _Abel will survive._ She readies herself for her run and leaves the gates with Four with barely a word. 

 

The run is nothing special; a routine mission centered on relieving the day to day realities of existing in a world that’s been shattered. Delivering supplies to smaller settlements, delivering mail between those groups who don’t have access to rofflenet. Sara could quite literally do it in her sleep, if necessary. The mission is half over when Jody finally breaks the silence between them.

 

“Everything all right, Eight?” Jody asks. “You’ve been quiet the whole run.”

 

That’s not good. If Jody’s noticed her silence, then Sam has already mentioned it five times to twice as many people and spawned at _least_ three separate rumors out of it. Sara snaps out of her thoughts, focusing on the run. The road between New Canton and Abel Township is almost as safe as it had been before the apocalypse, but that can change at a moment’s notice. Bandits have been stirred from their various hives lately; something she suspects Van Ark has had a hand in. “Didn’t sleep well, Four. Suppose I’m a bit off my game today.”

 

“Oh,” Jody pauses, giving her a long considering look. “Well, Five’s up ahead. Which means we’re almost done with this patrol and post run. If Rajit makes me deliver one more copy of his ‘book’, I’ll scream. Did you know there’s an actual _book club_ for that terrible thing in New Canton?”

 

“There’s no accounting for taste,” Sara says, smirking despite herself. “And you make for an excellent editor.”

 

“The next time he tries to get me to edit a romance scene, I’m going to throw one of Maxine’s anatomy books at him,” Jody grumbles between huffing breaths as they run. She adjusts her backpack, stuffing in a few stray postmarked letters back into her pack.

 

The runner’s post network is a pretty shabby thing, all told. Runners take letters and drop them off at other settlements along their route. A few people in Abel have family or friends living in smaller enclaves between New Canton and Abel, and it’s become a sort of unspoken duty to send letters and carry small packages with them when they’re out on a patrol. Janine isn’t fond of runners straying from their primary objectives, but the Major views it as an important part of a runner’s duty. _It’s vital we rebuild these small civilities,_ the Major had said. _It brings back a sense of normalcy. Even if it is just complaining about a package lost in the post._ In typical New Canton fashion, they took up the duty as well and somehow made it twice as complicated and half as efficient in the process.

 

Their headsets click on then, and Nadia’s voice comes through. Poorly. “Sorry for going quiet, Abel Runners. There was an issue with our comms. I think it’s--” Her next words are swallowed by static.

 

Jody mutters. “Wonder if they needed to get permission for the radio equipment to fail.”

 

Sara favors her with a small smirk, but points at her own headset and the blinking red light indicating it’s on and broadcasting. Jody’s cheeks flush red and she huffs, but takes the hint. The younger runner focuses on their path and the distant form of Five watching them as they make their approach. Five waves at them, signing terrible jokes at them as they draw near, and Jody snickers quietly.

 

“--yeah, it’s definitely not--” Their headsets let out a high pitched shriek of feedback and then go silent. Sara winces, pulling the headset away from her ear.

 

Jody taps her headset. “Nadia? Can you hear us?”

 

The only response they get is a burst of static and Nadia’s voice, garbled beyond all recognition, speaking unintelligibly around it. Sara frowns, pulling her headset back in place. “New Canton, you’re breaking up. Say again.”

 

Nadia’s next transmission is more static, half words, and an insistent tone. “--runners, ban--coming--”

 

That’s even less helpful than usual. Sara tries to adjust her headset.

 

Sam’s voice joins the confused jumble of Nadia’s instructions and static, overpowering New Canton’s signal. “Runners! Bandits to the west! They’ve blocked New Canton’s signal, but I can still get through!”

 

Sara turns her head towards the west and catches sight of a pale face ducking down behind some hedges, clutching a rifle in their hands. Judging by the rustling among the hedges, they’re keeping pacing with the runners. 

 

“Right, we’re on distraction duty,” Jody says, her voice tense, but under control. Her panic and fear are still there, but she’s mastered them since Sara’s disappearance. Sara can’t help but feel proud at her progress. “Five? Can you hear us?”

 

The distant form of Five waves again, sharp and quick, then shifts to arm and handsigns Janine had insisted the runners learn for situations exactly like this. _Danger. Flanking._

 

Right. Time to keep their would-be robbers distracted, then. Jody follows her with obvious trepidation, glancing back and forth along the edges of the road.

 

"Steady, Four. We'll be fine," Sara murmurs quietly, never taking her eyes off the road in front of her. Now that she knows what to look for, she can see the path the bandits are taking. "Shift behind me when we get around that corner near the ditch. That's where they'll catch us."

 

"Couldn't we, you know, _run_ instead?" Jody hisses, already moving into place.

 

"I don't know about you, but I haven't yet figured out how to outrun a bullet," Sara replies dryly. "Better to fight them head on than be picked off at a distance."

 

Jody shoots her a look, but falls in behind her. Sara's focus shifts back to the roadside as they draw close to the ambush site.

 

Right on cue, three men step out of the hedges. One has a rifle, the others hold machetes. The man with the rifle blocks the road with his friends standing on either side of him. They all have the lean and hungry look people living outside of walled settlements tend to get during the apocalypse; pale and twitchy, with darting nervous eyes and their weapons clenched tightly in their hands. The one with the rifle aims it at Sara’s chest, and the two runners slow to a stop.

 

The rifleman grins at them, and it would almost pass for charming if not for the hunting rifle at them. “All right, ladies, we aren’t looking for trouble. Drop the weapons.”

 

Sara drops her axe immediately. Jody hesitates, shooting Sara a sideways glance before dropping her own weapon down into the dirt. The bandits relax immediately, and their leader, the rifleman, smirks at the two runners.

 

“I do love it when they cooperate. I’d hate to waste ammo on you two,” he says, tilting the rifle up to balance against his shoulder. “I'm a bit disappointed, though. I always heard you Abel runners were tough fighters. You don't look that tough."

 

“You haven't seen us in a fight.” Sara says.

 

Sara can practically feel Jody's despair and frustration at that comment; Jody isn't one to put herself in needless danger. Sara supposes taunting a man with a gun while his two friends stand nearby with machetes meets that lofty standard.

 

The man aims a cocky grin at her. “You know, lady, if you were twenty years younger, I’d keep you around for some fun.”

 

“If I were twenty years younger, you would already be dead,” Sara replies sweetly.

 

The man laughs. “Well, love, I might just keep you around after all--”

 

Five suddenly _appears_ behind the bandit, crashing through the brush along the side of the road and swinging her knife up to knock the bandit’s rifle aside, knocking the weapon free of the man’s hands. It sails across the road, dropping into the long grass. The bandit stares at his lost weapon with an expression of sheer confusion that quickly turns to pain when Five slams the pommel of her knife against his lower jaw. The man crumples to the ground almost immediately; the entire exchange lasts no longer than five seconds.

 

Sara wastes no time. She whirls around to the man closest to her, snapping a leg out to kick out the side of his knee. She can feel his kneecap _crack_ under her heel, and he barely has enough time to let out a strangled scream of pain before she drives her elbow into his throat. He falls with a strangled gasp, clutching at his swollen throat and shattered knee, too blinded with pain to do much more than gurgle and wheeze.

 

Still one left. Jody’s a decent fighter, but she tends to panic. Sara turns to help her--

 

And finds Jody standing above the last man, brushing her hands off and grumbling. “Stupid idiots should have just left us alone. Honestly.”

 

There are a few bruises on her arms and legs, but nothing serious. Sara looks over at Five and finds her standing over the first bandit, idly wiggling the blade of her knife back and forth between her fingers like a loose tooth. The blade wiggles free and falls to her feet, cracked beyond repair.

 

“I think that one’s a lost cause, Five,” Sara says, amused by the near pout on Five’s face.

 

Five drops the handle and sighs. “Janine told me it was a cheap knife when she first saw it. I thought she was just being an elitist, which is why I kept it. Maybe I should have listened."

 

“She is quite the expert on knives,” Sara replies, using some spare rope to tie up the hands and feet of the three bandits. 

  
“Which is terrifying,” Jody mutters.

 

"Only if she has reason to use them on you, Four," Sara says, rummaging through the bandits’ packs to find the signal jammer. It wouldn’t have to be very large, and it was likely the only electronic item on their person. No one carries smartphones around anymore which is something of a pity. She does miss her videogames.

 

“I saw her cut a horsefly in half during dinner once,” Five adds helpfully, stealing every slightly useful item out of the bandits’ packs and placing them in her own. “She threw her knife right over Simon’s head.”

 

“Again, terrifying,” Jody insists, keeping watch for zombs. 

 

Sara adjusts her headset, switching to New Canton's channel.

 

“Abel Runners, I’ve got a New Canton patrol heading out to grab those bandits,” Nadia says. “You’re free to finish your run, but if any other bandits are spotted, you’re going to be ordered back here. It’s just safer.”

 

Sara avoids New Canton runs as much as possible. Oh, there were plenty of good people there, even she had to admit that. But the wounds they caused are still fresh. She would have never been bitten if they hadn’t been so bloody insistent on raiding Abel. It’s hard to not harbor some bitterness towards them.

 

That, of course, doesn’t mean she can’t pretend to be thankful for Nadia’s guidance. She puts some false cheer in her voice. “Sounds good to me, Nadia. We’ll check in when we’re in Abel’s borders.”

 

“Good! And good work out there, runners. Safe travels.” The last word cuts out, falling into static.

 

Sara switches off her microphone, letting out a quiet sigh of relief. She finds herself the center of attention for Five and Jody. Jody quirks a brow at her. “Still not a fan of New Canton?”

 

Sara scoffs. “No. Not at all. Are you?”

 

Jody thinks considers it for a moment  before shaking her head. “No. I trust them to do what’s best for them. They’ve just convinced themselves that what they’re doing is best for everyone. They probably don’t even see the difference anymore.”

 

“Smart,” Sara says. She turns to Five.

 

Five is quiet for a moment, and then shrugs. “They made me herd goats when I was there. One of them bit me. Not a fan.”

 

“Is that the one that followed you back to Abel and climbed up on Janine’s roof?” Jody says, grinning.

 

Five huffs. “Janine made me climb up and get him. At midnight. I keep waking up to the horrible thing just _staring_ at me in my sleep now.”

 

The rest of the run follows that path; bickering, teasing, sharing stories of runs when Sara was gone. It’s warm, familiar, and Sara can only wonder how many more of these little moments she’ll see before she leaves Abel. The knowledge of her betrayal doesn’t even upset her anymore; she’s become contemplative and withdrawn. The only good thing to come of this run is a reassurance that her presence isn’t needed at Abel anymore.

 

Abel will survive without her. Without the Major. The runners will see to that. Janine will, too, despite how much she tries to avoid such things.

 

Sara allows her guard to drop, just for a bit. It just might be the last time she does so among Abel’s runners.

 

*** * ***

 

Abel’s gates close behind them with a rattling clang, and the three runners stroll inside, each doing their own cool down stretches in the small area tucked away near the comms shack. Evan walks up to take their backpacks. He pauses when he reaches Sara, and the look he gives her is searching. 

 

He watches her with a cool detachment. It’s a look he’s held ever since he was assigned to the run to Bert Airfield with her later in the week. Rumor had it that Janine was going to put Five on that mission as well. Sara stops and returns his stare, quirking a brow and tilting her head at him.

 

Of all the runners likely to discover her treason, she’s been most worried by him. Evan doesn’t fully trust anyone at Abel and likely never will. He keeps everyone at arm’s length, never quite letting his guard down with the glaring exception of Runner Five. The man acts as if he’s driven by a purpose much more important than managing the scavenger crews of a small settlement at the edge of disaster. A part of her wishes she had time to figure him out completely; she senses a kindred spirit in him. 

 

He gives her a friendly nod. “Good run, Eight?”

 

“Typical day at the office, Seven,” Sara replies with a wry smirk.

 

“Sure, if your office is full of zombs and idiots with guns,” Jody grumbles, pushing between them to reach the showers. “I’m never delivering a bloody letter ever again.”

 

Evan chuckles, calling after Jody. “There’s always that trade run out to the alpaca ranch--”

 

“I know where you sleep, Seven!” Jody calls back before ducking into the showers.

 

Evan smirks, taking their backpacks to the comms shack to sort through the supplies they’ve found along the way back home. Sara and Five finish their stretches in relative silence, the only sound coming from the surrounding guards and workers tending to the wall and the stray scrap of a song drifting from the guard’s shack. It's peaceful, despite the obvious devastation from Van Ark's attack. 

 

Five finishes her stretches with a yawn. Sara bumps shoulders with her. “Meet me at the bunkhouse when you’re done with your shower, Five. I’ll replace that knife of yours with something better.”

 

Five visibly perks up and nods, jogging for the showers ahead of Sara. Sara shakes her head and follows her. She had been saving this gift for Christmas, but with the way things are going, it might be best to give it now.

 

*** * ***

 

Their bunkhouse is empty at the moment; Cameo is either on kitchen duty or training with Kytan and Yang. That suits Sara just fine; Cameo's a decent sort, but like all runners, she's nosy to a fault. Abel runners just seem to have that in common among themselves, much to the annoyance and frustration of New Canton's by-the-book runners and operators. Sara heads straight for her bunk tucked away in the far right corner. Five is at her heels, idly playing with the frayed strings dangling from Sam's hoodie.

 

“Here, Five. Since you’ve gone and snapped your knife today...” Sara pulls out the duffel bag beneath her bunk and unzips it. Hand axes, knives, hammers, even a small spear spills out.

 

Five stares at it for a few moments, then looks at Sara. “Is that a spear or are you just happy to see me?”

 

Sara rolls her eyes. “You and Simon are menaces.” She pulls out a knife and sheath. “Here. My friend Yasmin forged this for me years ago at the Outfit. It’s sturdy. Should stand up to rough field work if you maintain it.”

 

The knife is barely smaller than a machete, with a thick blade that gleams in the dim lamplight of their bunkhouse. Five takes the blade, testing its weight. She looks along the spine of the blade, then returns it to the sheath, setting it down to sign. 

 

"'To my guardian angel?'"

 

"She got into a bit of trouble on her first mission out of training. Got in over her head. I had to go in and help her. Barely got there in time, really." Sara admires the blade with a fond smile. “Yasmin was the last agent I trained for the Outfit. One of the best we had, to be honest. Brave, brash. Occasionally an idiot. A lot like you, really.”

 

Five shoots her an amused look. “Thanks.”

 

Sara smirks, standing up and clapping Five on the shoulder. “Take care of that blade, Five."

 

“I will. Promise.” Five signs, grinning at her in that easy going, lopsided way that always reminds Sara of long lost friends. 

 

Sara chuckles, bumping shoulders with Five before stepping out of the warm bunkhouse and into the frigid night.

 

She hopes Five survives all this.

 

*** * ***

 

A part of her died with her family. The mothering side, perhaps. The gentle side that had once considered retirement from field work to be the best decision she ever made. The one that enjoyed the life of a mentor and trainer, taking hopeful agents under her wing and passing on her wisdom and experience.

 

That part passed in the space of a heartbeat when she had to take a shovel to her husband and one of her boys right before dinner the day the world turned upside down. Everything became a blur after that, really. Grabbing her old duty bag, arming herself with knives to go along with the shovel, ducking outside to get the first real glimpse of a zombie horde storming through her quaint little neighborhood. Using that same shovel to take off the head of that damned nosy neighbor that always made such snide comments on the state of her garden.

 

She loves the apocalypse. There’s no time for her to think about what she’s lost when there are runners to help train, an armory to maintain, and missions to run. All the benefits of field work for the Outfit with none of the bureaucratic nonsense tacked on. She doesn't need to play nice with overstuffed politicians when the dead are tearing innocent people apart.

 

The apocalypse has changed her the same way it’s changed all of them. She’s freer now. Purer. 

 

But she would give all of it up in a heartbeat for her children. For the son trapped in a cryotube deep within the London hot zone.

 

That’s what keeps her going. The knowledge that her son survived the outbreak. That he’s safe. That she can find him.

 

It’s what she tells herself when she the nightmares come. And they’ve been getting more frequent as of late. Darker and sharper. Archie’s mutilated corpse. Jamie’s furious grief. Five’s bruised and bloodied wrists from her brief capture by Van Ark. There’s a hollow look in Five’s eyes now, and Sara knows it’ll only get worse from here.

 

It’s what she thinks about when she’s plugged into the machine that keeps the virus at bay.

 

“These treatments won’t last forever, you know,” Paula says quietly, pushing the IV into her elbow. “Eventually, the virus wins. We’re perfecting the treatment of course, but...”

 

“I know. It’s a race against time.” Sara clenches her jaw when Paula starts the treatment. It burns, gently at first, but gradually rises until she’s gritting her teeth and sweating through the pain of it. Her time between treatments is becoming shorter.

 

“Your race is almost over,” Paula sighs, rubbing her forehead. “I’m going to talk to Van Ark. You’ll need that new serum sooner rather than later.”

 

“If you think you can convince him to do it. I haven’t had much luck, personally,” Sara gasps. 

 

“Well, you do terrify him a tiny bit,” Paula replies. “But he’s been in a good mood lately. You might get lucky today.”

 

“One can hope. Where is he?”

 

“Treating another person down the hall. You should rest for a moment, though." Paula frowns. "You look exhausted."

 

"Haven't been sleeping well as of late. It's something of an issue over at Abel." Sara all but slumps back into her chair as Paula draws the needle out. "And I had better go now. You know how the doc feels about being kept waiting."

 

Paula sighs, but doesn't try to stop Sara when she leaves. Sara winds through the laboratory complex easily, ignoring guards and lab assistants alike on the way. Her arm burns and aches; it won't feel normal for a long while. It never does.

 

She finds Van Ark in the hallway near his office, talking quietly with a large soldier. The man he's speaking with is huge, and he’s wearing an outfit typically favored by first rate mercenaries. Sara’s seen dozens of his like in her career, but it’s the first time she’s seen one around Van Ark. His choice of hired guard tends towards the brutish and silent type; this man has the casual aura of danger she's most often seen among more professional mercenaries who like to style themselves as James Bond.

 

Van Ark’s voice is a harsh whisper. “I need _more time_. My plan--”

 

“Isn’t what I came for,” the man replies quietly. His tone is polite and carefully neutral, but firm. “My employer is growing impatient.”

 

Van Ark scoffs. “That’s not new.”

 

The man looks as though he’s going to say something, but he catches sight of Sara and steps back from Van Ark. Van Ark looks over and almost seems relieved to see Sara at the end of the hallway.

 

"Ah, Sara! Just the woman I wanted to see." Van Ark actually smiles at her, smug and self assured. She hasn't seen that look on his face in quite awhile and she can feel the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Something feels off. "Excellent timing. Run along, Sissay. I think you’ve done enough damage here today.”

 

The man, Sissay, quirks a brow at Van Ark, but nods and leaves. He gives Sara one last considering look before he does.

 

Sara doesn't spare him a second glance as she steps into the room. Van Ark relaxes the moment the door closes behind them, clearly eager to be free of Sissay.

 

"Get on the treadmill. I just finished adjusting the formula for this batch. I’m eager to see how it works, and your timing couldn’t be more perfect. You know how sensitive the serum can be if it sets for too long."

 

Sara quirks a brow at the scene before striding towards the treadmill and starting it. She starts to jog, keeping one eye on the professor as the treadmill gains speed. "I just finished a treatment with Paula not even five minutes ago. Is this a good time for it?"

 

"Actually, yes." Van Ark seems pleased by the news. "The virus won't interfere too much with the serum right after a treatment. It's the perfect time."

 

"I see." Sara doesn't like this. He's too at ease, too _smug_. 

 

The room goes silent. Van Ark watches her progress from warm up to a proper running speed, marking down times and heart rate numbers on his clipboard. When he speaks again, his voice is casual.

 

"You know, I've been thinking about increasing security around here. It seems someone has been rifling through my office when I'm not around."

 

Ah. Suddenly the heavy guard presence makes sense. Sara tenses, shifting her weight subtly, preparing to attack--

 

"I know where your son is," Van Ark says sharply. "Kill me and he will die in a way more painful than you can ever imagine."

 

Sara growls, realizing just how the scales have tipped against her. She doesn't trust herself to speak; she only glares at Van Ark.

 

"I'm not an unreasonable man, Smith. Everyone has their price. In fact, this simplifies matters a great deal for me," Van Ark says smoothly. "I can help you reunite with your son once Abel falls. Consider it payment for a job well done."

 

"And I'm to believe you'll do this out of the goodness of your heart?"

 

"You'd be an idiot if you did, and you are no fool," Van Ark replies dryly, plunging the needle into her arm with no warning. "Pick up the pace."

 

The injection burns like fire, worse than the plasmapheresis treatments. Sara grits her teeth and starts to run. Van Ark takes a moment to step back and admire her, and it takes every fiber of her being to keep from slamming his face into the treadmill's handlebars.

 

"Excellent form," he murmurs, walking around to her other arm. He starts to prepare another injection. "As I was saying, I may not be a good person, but I do believe in a mutual exchange of services."

 

"I'm listening," Sara grits out.

 

"Oh, this is just reaffirming our previous agreement, with a few minor changes," Van Ark replies, readying the next needle. "And perhaps a slight attitude change on your part. I'm not a fan of your little _moods_ , personally."

 

The only response Sara can think of would very much reaffirm his opinion on her _moods_. She stays quiet, quirking a brow at him as she runs. He snorts.

 

“You’re more than some post apocalyptic scavenger, Smith. I’m not blind to that. Which means you’re more than capable of taking down Abel for me in a matter of days. Hours, perhaps.” He readies the next needle, walking around to her other arm. He sticks her with it, and she staggers for a moment from the pain. “You’ve been selling yourself short, acting ignorant and incompetent where it suits you. Always just competent enough to stay in my good graces. Barely.”

 

Perhaps Van Ark isn’t as much of an idiot as previously thought. A pity she has to find out this way. “You have quite the opinion on my abilities. I’m flattered.”

 

He said he didn’t like her moods. He said nothing about her snark.

 

Van Ark scoffs, pressing on as if she said nothing. “As I said, you’ve been pretending to be less of an asset than you truly are. _That_ will change. From this moment forward.” He catches her eye. “If I think for even _one second_ you’re not upholding your side of the deal, I’ll have your son dragged out of storage and use him to test out the more _unstable_ versions of this serum. Am I clear?”

 

Sara glowers at him. “Crystal.”

 

“Good.” He circles back around to her right arm, and sticks her with the final needle. The pain is almost bearable. He goes silent, smirking smugly as she endures the pain of the injections. Her heart rate is up, and fire burns through her veins, but she doesn’t immediately die from the treatment.

 

He keeps her on the treadmill for another twenty minutes, and then waves for her to slow down and rest. 

 

"There. All done," Van Ark says. He seems pleased. "It won't get rid of the virus, mind you. You'll need to come in for those treatments, I’m afraid. Try not to turn into a zombie in the middle of one of my assignments.”

 

Sara steps off the treadmill, shaking her head. She watches him for a moment.

 

"You realize that I would have worked for you willingly,” Sara says, rubbing her arm. The skin is red and raw, and the muscle throbs with a burning ache that makes her want to claw the skin apart to get to the source of it.

 

Van Ark shrugs. "I believe in using both the carrot _and_ the stick in these matters." He smirks. "Pleasure doing business with you, Smith. See you next week."

 

With that, he turns and leaves, whistling some happy tuneless little song as he goes.

 

Sara stays in the room for a few moments longer, pacing to lessen the pain. Her arms throb, her skin prickles, and the light seems almost too bright for her right now. A side effect from the injection. If she’s lucky, she won’t start shedding skin or gain lizard teeth.

 

She’s tempted to kill him. More than tempted. She could do it now. Find him and crush his throat between her hands, throttling him just slow enough to draw out his death over a period of hours.

 

But he would have someone watching her son.

 

She slams a fist against the wall before leaving the treadmill room to find her backpack and headset. As Sara leaves the compound, she sees the man Van Ark called Sissay standing near the perimeter, speaking with the guards. 

 

How strange that Van Ark only noticed her sneaking about his office when Sissay appeared.

 

Sissay watches as she runs, tilting his head and offering a friendly wave. She stares at him from the corner of her eye, jaw tight.

 

How strange indeed.

 

* * *

 

The next time Sara returns to Van Ark’s compound, she’s overdue for her treatment by almost a week. Janine is starting to get serious about her suspicions on who the traitor could be, which is making it difficult for her to sneak away unseen. She doesn’t dare try to visit during the course of a run anymore; it’s too obvious, too suspicious. She’s been waiting for her rest period directly after a run; a guaranteed six hours of rest gives her plenty of time to sneak back out and report to Van Ark. It makes for some miserably sleep shifts, but ever since Van Ark gave her the serum, she’s been needling less and less sleep.

 

She isn’t sure she likes that.

 

She barely makes it to Van Ark’s lab before the cough starts to settle in. She can pass off a cough as allergies or a summer cold for only so long in Abel these days, so she’s eager to be rid of it.

 

Van Ark doesn't pay much attention to her this time. He barely glances up from the array of needles and vials laid out in front of him. "I'm afraid I don't have time for our usual games today, Smith. I have a test subject in another room in quite a bit of pain. The treatments are going well for him, so far, but there are a few hiccups due to his condition."

 

Sara quirks a brow. "What's wrong with this one?"

 

"Cancer," Van Ark replies, snorting. "Too many cigarettes, though you wouldn't know it by looking at him. He's at the top of his physical peak. A real gym body."

 

The man is either desperate or an idiot to come to Van Ark for help. "He must do good work for you to get the full treatment."

 

"Oh, he has." Van Ark smirks, using a needle to draw out a sickly green liquid from one of the vials. "A most useful test subject indeed. And he's had the good sense to not die on me in the process of testing this new batch. I have a very specific person in mind for the new formula.I I suppose I would hate to lose the information he brings me as well." He caps the needle. "Now, onto you..."

 

The hackles on the back of Sara’s neck rise up. She can’t stand the way the man’s stare _lingers_ on her. He doesn’t see her as a person; just another test subject. And one he doesn’t even particularly like (for good reason).

 

“I have a little assignment for you. My other test subjects aren’t quite so _eager_ to take this job. It _offends_ their sensibilities, I suppose.” Van Ark snorts. “You, however, seem a ruthless sort. I could use that. And if you don't do it, I'll have your son killed.”

 

“What is it you need?”

 

“Runner Five.” He turns to face her now. “I want Runner Five. Bring her to me.”

 

For a moment, Sara pauses. Something between panic and fury shoots down her spine, and she has to fight the instinctive urge to strangle the man. Five’s nightmares have been particularly vicious ever since her brief capture by Van Ark. She scoffs. “Runner Five? What use would you have of her? She’s no more special than the rest of the runners at Abel.”

 

“She’s got _spirit_ , Sara. Everyone always wants _something_ of me--time, treatments, bloody _status reports_ \--but she has nothing but _contempt_ for me. Even when she was completely at my mercy. I truly believe she would have let herself die rather than let me win.” He grins at her, all boyish charm. “That is _such_ a refreshing change from the norm. Bring her to me.”

 

“What if I did you one better?” Sara replies, crossing her arms and casually leaning against the wall. “Forget about old Runner Five. She isn’t all that important in the grand scheme of things, after all.”

 

“No, but I do so love to have a pet project,” Van Ark says, stroking his beard. After a few moments he sighs. “But you’re right. My benefactors would take a very dim view if I were to stray too far from my path. What’s your offer?”

 

“Major De Santa,” Sara says simply, watching Van Ark arrange the needles across a tray. The serum needs to be administered in a series of three shots, one after the other, in a very precise order.

 

“More than tempting. When?”

 

“Soon.” Van Ark doesn’t look too pleased by that answer. Sara shrugs. “She doesn’t keep to a steady schedule, and she’s not always at Abel. I’ll have to draw her out first.”

 

“Hm.” Van Ark taps his fingers on the table. “You have two weeks.”

 

_Too soon._ “Two weeks, then.”

 

“You were certainly a wise investment, Smith,” Van Ark smirks, tension leaving his shoulders. “Now that’s decided, do me a favor and give the man in the next room his treatment.”

 

Sara tilts her head at him. “Isn’t that something you should be doing?”

 

Van Ark scoffs. “You’re more valuable than he is. And you can handle this just fine. One needle after the other, every thirty minutes. You’re familiar with the process, of course.” He dismisses her with a wave. “I have other things to attend to, and he’s fallen out of favor. It won’t be any real loss if you botch the process.”

 

With that, he leaves, heading down the hall back to his personal office. Sara is alone with the tray of serum and the muffled sound of a treadmill coming from the room to her right. 

 

This is a set up. He’s testing her loyalty, trying to see if she’ll take the serum and run back to Abel. She's tempted, of course. A part of her still wants to remain true to Abel.

 

But if she does that, Van Ark will have her son killed.

 

She grabs the serum and pushes the door open, stepping into the examination room.

 

And there, on the treadmill, is Simon Lauchlan. He's running hard, sweat running down his back and arms. His back is facing her; he's so focused on his running that he hasn't noticed her entrance at all. There’s no sense of fear on him at all, and no chains keeping him in place. This isn’t the result of a kidnapping.

 

She grips the tray in her hand tightly.

 

Simon perks up when he hears the door open behind himself. "Is that you doc? Oh, about time! I'm at my limit here--"

 

"Simon."

 

The sound of her voice is enough to send him into a panic. He trips over his feet, falling off of the treadmill and landing hard on the cement floor. His eyes are blown eye open, and practically crab walks away from Sara as fast as he can, bumping up against the wall. He holds one trembling hand out, as if to ward off a blow.

 

The thought is beyond tempting.

 

She sets the tray down and kneels down in front of him. "How long?"

 

Simon stares at her, as if he can't believe his eyes. He looks to be one step away from fainting from fright. "Since a little after Five joined."

 

"Why?"

 

He laughs, short and breathless. "Didn't have a choice. Didn't want to die, and he had the cure. Figured I'd make the best of it. What about you?"

 

She could tell him, she realizes. Explain why she’s here. Why she’s helping the man that’s killed so many innocent people. Why she’s betrayed their friends and family. And he would understand. He wouldn’t blame her, even if his understanding would partially be motivated by not getting killed by her.

 

She could kill him, too. Before he does anymore damage. Hurts anyone else. But what good would it do?

 

Sara scowls, ignoring his question and standing up. "Get on the treadmill."

 

Simon watches her warily, still half panicked. After a few moments, he stands and shakily walks over to the treadmill, restarting it. He jogs, slowly building up speed, watching her closely the entire time.

 

She grabs the first needle, and roughly pushes it into his arm. He hisses, tensing, but only stumbles for a moment as she drops his arm.

 

"Run faster or it'll kill you."

 

Simon runs faster, gasping through the pain.

 

She knows who the traitor is at Abel. And she can't tell a soul.

 

Another test. And one she'll pass, as much as she hates it.

 

*** * ***

 

It's the end of the first week since Van Ark gave Sara his deadline. It’s early morning, and the sun is just barely starting to rise. She's sitting in the mess tent, lost in thought. The night shift from the guards mill about, drinking tea and eating fresh oatmeal while chatting quietly among themselves. One of the cooks has a radio tuned in on Eugene and Jack’s latest spirited debate with Phil and Zoe. It’s a nice, peaceful moment, but Sara can’t bring herself to enjoy it.

 

Things at Abel have become tense. Van Ark is growing more bold and more flagrant with his attacks. Evan abandoned them all by stealing a plane, and neatly demolished the fragile morale the Major and Janine have managed to rebuild from Abel’s near destruction. Five wanders the township in an effort to avoid her nightmares, or simply stays close to Sam. The runners in general are jumpy and tense. There's no talk of Runner's Games anymore.

 

She can’t tolerate another week of this. Sara left a coded message on her report to the Major last night; _the endgame starts now, meet outside the township when possible._ The Major made it a point to return with a message of her own.

 

_After your run tomorrow._

 

Her cover hasn’t been blown as of yet, but Sara feels as though this will be the last run she does for Abel. She isn’t sure of what to make of that. She feels as though she should be nostalgic or regretful.

 

She feels numb.

 

Owen sits down across from her, knocking her out of her thoughts. He watches her, saying nothing.

 

If she didn't know the man was an idiot, she'd suspect he knew of her betrayal. "What is it, Six?"

 

"Aren't you going to apologize?" Owen asks, glaring at her across the table. Every bit of him is tense, prepared for a fight. It would be threatening if the man knew any sort of hand to hand beyond pub brawls.

 

"Apologize for what?"

 

"For almost letting me get hit by a bloody train?" Owen asks incredulously. "You don't remember? Five had to save me and you just stood there--"

 

"If you didn't want to be hit by a train, you wouldn't have gotten caught."

 

Owen stares at her, mouth open like a fish. He's quiet for a moment before hissing. "I thought we runners stuck together."

 

"We do. But you're going to get someone killed. Yourself, if we're lucky." Sara matches his tone with her own, leaning over the table while she taps her finger meaningfully against the rough wood. "We needed that fuel, and you weren't paying attention, Landis. You got cocky and careless and got caught. Because of that, Five nearly got herself killed saving you. Learn from it, before you get someone better than yourself hurt."

 

With that, she stands and walks away. Her temper is short. The last thing she needs is to blow her cover by throttling an idiot in plain view of everyone in the township. Owen watches her leave, his face darkening with fury as he clenches his fists on the table.

 

Sara ignores him as she leaves tent. She has a run to prepare for.

 

*** * ***

 

As it turns out, it _is_ her last run as an Abel Runner. The only good thing about it is that New Canton and Abel captured her before she brought Five to Van Ark.

 

The downside, of course, being that she has no choice but to go through with her treason. The opportunity couldn’t be less perfect; the Major is outside of Abel (limiting casualties), Five is out of reach (and would remain so), and the only other person in the room is Janine. Janine, who is emotionally compromised, and alone. Sara will just have to subdue her. One less body to weigh on her burdened conscience.

Janine is absolutely livid. Sara has never seen her so furious in her life. It’s a sight to behold. “Did you want to get Archie killed? It must have been you who betrayed her to Van Ark. Didn’t it bother you even the tiniest bit when he tortured her to death? Didn’t it bother you when you heard her dying screams?”

 

The Major sighs, pacing behind Sara. “Steady on, De Luca.

 

Sara snarls, snapping back. “Of course it did. I’m not a _monster._ ”

 

“Funny, that’s what Van Ark said.”

 

“But he _is_ a monster,” Sara replies, perhaps a bit more sincerely than strictly necessary.

 

Janine scoffs. “Didn’t stop you working for him, did it?”

 

Janine’s starting to calm down. She might see through the ruse if Sara’s not careful. Sara shrugs, smirking at her. “You know what they say. Needs must.”

 

_That_ lights a proper fire in Janine. She stiffens, clenching her jaw and fists. Sara’s preparing herself for punch to the face when the Major steps in and takes control of the situation.

 

“It’s the details of your work we’re interested in, Eight.” And isn’t that odd. The Major is still using her runner designation. Sara would have thought the first thing they would have done is strip her of that and refer to her by her name. “Tell us what his plans are now.”

 

“You betrayed us! Why not betray him? It’s not like loyalty’s important to you, is it?” Janine adds.

 

The venom in Janine’s tone hits harder than Sara expected. She sighs. “Look, Janine, I know how you feel. I had my reasons--”

 

It still isn't too late. She hasn’t yet crossed the boundary into true treason. She could stop this, tell the Major and Janine both what's happened. Oh, it would be messy, there’s no doubt about that. New Canton would scream for her head no matter what after Esteban's death, and Abel would never fully trust her again for as long as she lives. But they would help. They owe her that much.

 

The thought drives her to distraction. She almost doesn't feel the Major loosen the ropes around her wrists. Sara starts to free her hands, gritting her teeth. Her choice is made. This really is the point of no return.

 

The Major doesn’t know just how big of a mistake she’s made.

 

“Don’t pretend that we’re still _friends,_ ” Janine snaps, unaware of what’s just happened.

 

From there, things begin to spiral. The Major leaves to speak with Sam, Janine stalks back and forth in the small room they’re using for the interrogation. Sara goads Janine more and more, always on the brink of admitting the true reason for her betrayal, but she can never quite bring herself to explain it fully. So she plays the villain instead. Exactly as planned.

 

“We’re moving her, De Luca,” the Major says from the doorway, just out of sight. 

 

Janine blinks, hesitating. “Are you sure we should--”

 

“Hurry, please,” the Major responds. “We have an armored car just for this.”

 

That revelation brings Janine pause. Sara watches her, idly tapping her foot. An armored car would have been an ideal setting from the start; setting aside the fact that zombies can’t pry apart steel, a mobile interrogation room would keep Sara easily out of Van Ark’s reach. Sara can see all of those thoughts race behind her friend’s ( _former friend’s_ ) eyes as she works the ropes loose around her hands.

 

She’ll need to move fast.

 

Janine steps towards her, pulling her pistol free of the holster on her hip as she draws close. “Okay, Eight. If you even think about--” Sara moves, closing the distance between them in a heartbeat. Janine is so shocked, she barely has enough time to react to the attack. Sara grips Janine’s arm tightly, pushing the gun away and to the side. It would be just her luck to get shot right now.

 

Janine doesn’t make it easy on her. The woman is broad shouldered and strong, and more than a match for Sara’s strength. It doesn’t help that Janine isn’t holding back. She grits her teeth, glaring at Sara. “How did you--We secured you! I checked it myself!”

 

“Shouldn’t underestimate me,” Sara replies, finally finding purchase on Janine’s arm and twisting it back. She feels the bones in Janine’s arms crack, and the accompanying scream is almost enough to make her vomit.

 

Janine goes limp. Sara drops her, leaning down to pick up the pistol. She idly checks it. Thirteen rounds. More than enough.

 

The Major charges into the room, takes in the scene and nods. She watches Sara steadily, hands up in surrender. There isn't an ounce of fear in her, and Sara is both fiercely proud and sickened at that realization. This scenario isn’t _quite_ like they planned, but it’s working so far. Sara aims the gun at Major De Santa’s head, her finger tightening on the trigger.

 

There’s a moment of silence, broken only by the distant sound of a horde and Sam’s frantic yelling over Janine’s headset. Major De Santa watches Sara expectantly.

 

“I’m sorry,” Sara says quietly, too low for the Major's headset to hear. The tone of it is off from her usual manner. Different. “He has my son. I’ll make it quick, like we discussed.”

 

That's when the first glimmer of doubt and suspicion enters Major De Santa's eyes. Her face falls, and she puts her hands out. "Don't--"

 

Sara pulls the trigger. Two shots between the eyes, deafeningly loud in the cramped room, and the Major is dead before the smoke clears barrel of Sara’s gun. Clean, efficient, just as she learned back at the Outfit. The Major doesn’t have time to make a sound when she dies. She merely falls to the ground, a perplexed look on her face. 

 

Janine doesn't stir.

 

Sara ignores her, turning and leaving the small house behind without another word. If her knees shake and her vision goes blurry at the edges from nausea, well. That's just war, isn't it?

 

It really is poor bloody luck that Five's in the way when Sara escapes. Five starts when she feels Sara's gun press into her back.

 

"On your right, Five." Sara tries to keep the smug smirk on her face, and finds it slips on all too easily. Van Ark can't suspect she's been having second thoughts. It's far too late for those, anyway. "You should have listened to Sam, Five. Keep running. Try anything funny and I'll kill you."

 

She would. It would be a kinder fate than the one Van Ark has in store for her. But Five won't fight; she'll wait for a moment to escape. She won't give Sara the chance to grant her a merciful death.

 

Stupid bloody woman. 

 

"The professor is dying to see you again."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took forever. Partially because I decided to expand it so it includes every season up to season five, and partially because my whole life has been reworked from the bottom up lately and I simply didn't have time to write as much.
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy it! A majority of this is all set up for future chapters/seasons!


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